


Scintilla

by panhinata14



Series: Pretty Words [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, InoSaku - freeform, basically the entire thing is told in flashbacks lol, fluffy af, inosaku, modern!AU, one–shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 07:20:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4295703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panhinata14/pseuds/panhinata14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I remember feeling a tiny spark as she held my hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scintilla

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a tumblr post. this is going to be in a series of one–shots. warning: ment. of abuse and rape. just light mentions.

**scintilla** ( _n_ ) – a tiny spark

I remember it like it was from a different world, a movie, maybe– foggy, and undeniably unclear, as if I was looking at the memory through glass, or even water.

She looked so lost, I could have sworn she was, if she didn't say she knew the town like the back of her hand. But she never really was a saint; maybe she was lying that day.

Her pink hair swished, and she looked at me so kindly, I knew we'd be friends.

Years went by, but from that day, we were the best of them.

She held my hand for the first time in 3rd grade and that was the day I felt a small jolt take a hold of my body.

When we were in 5th grade, I remember that she had declared, with her glossy pink lips, that we were to marry if when we turned 30, we were still single. I remember feeling the same, miniscule briskness of electricity as she said those words.

When we were in 6th grade, I remember that we had the same class as a boy with short black hair, and a brooding aura. He sat next to a blonde boy with ugly scars that said he loved Sakura, and almost sounded like he knew what that meant. She had pointed at the paler boy and said that he was cute. I didn't know what to do when other girls started agreeing, so I said it, too. I remember that almost invisible feeling of a prick of fire landing on my heart when she glared at me.

When we were in 8th grade, I remember that the same boy who I decided ruined my life and stole my friend ran away. There were police and flashing lights and questions and hard eyes, but I was almost happy. Almost, I repeat. For the way she looked at me, her green orbs caught in fear, I knew that this would break her more than he could ever. I felt that practically nonexistent shiver of warmth dance through my spine as she tore her eyes from mine and hugged me for the first time in two years.

When we finally reached 9th grade, I remember that she found her style, and realized she loved to play with my hair. She had sighed wistfully, braiding my long, blonde tresses, slipping some flowers in, here and there. Her soft, vintage, cherry covered dress had shifted from covering her legs, to floating atop mine, and I realized, that day, with a sudden, small feeling of static, as she braided my hair, talking of boys and perfumes, that I was very much gay.

When we had made it to highschool, just barely freshmen, I remember that I was invited to a pool party for the first time, and forced her muscular figure to come along, as well. She had slapped my tan, bare shoulder, saying she didn't want to be a burden in her own, violent little way, but I just shoved a teal one–piece onto her body, and stuffed her into my car. It was that day, as I watched boys flirt with her and her speak of mermaids in the deep end, that a jolt of feeling told me I was in love.

When it was Sophomore year, I remember Sakura got a girlfriend for the very first time. It was strange; neither of us had come out, but a budgy girl with indigo hair had given her a heart full of chocolates and a note, and suddenly, I was the only one still single. I felt that tiny sting, like when you rip off a bandaid too fast, as Sakura held her hand and not mine, that sunny day.

When we were Seniors, I remember Hinata finally broke up with Sakura, because her father had beaten her senseless, the night after their first kiss on the Asian girl's lawn. Sakura cried into my shoulder, but I whispered about gay marriage and happy endings and D.H.S regulations and having Hinata sent to a better home. She didn't listen because she was never good at doing so, and I kept talking, because I never learned to stop doing so. I felt a miniature spark of hope that night. I'm still not sure, to this day, for what I felt that glorious notion for.

When we were in our first year of college, I remeber finally asking the pinkette out. She said no. I felt a prick in my side and at the center of my heart when she hugged me and said she was going to be the one asking me out.

When she finished college, I remember having a party. We were drinking and laughing and some people let vodka convince them dancing was still cool. She pulled off a ring from her finger and kissed me, saying something about marriage. When I woke up, I was cursed with a hangover and blessed with an empty bed. I saw a note on the nightstand, but ignored it in favor of coffee and a hot shower. Three hours later, I had a small, warm feeling trap my heart as I read aloud the paper, that stated we were getting married in November, and she was out buying the rings now.

When I got my first job, I remember her joking about me never getting one all through highschool and college, but I blamed her and her needy–ness that didn't really exist. She punched me playfully on my arm, and she kissed me up and down my neck, and I remember the jolt of some sort of feeling as I realized that she had said that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with me.

When I was 23 and she was, too, I remember her talking about adoption. I told her about how the state wouldn't even let us marry, so it was unlikely that they'd let us have kids. We actually got into a fight. I remember that spark when she kissed me instead of saying sorry for mean words and loud voices.

When she lost her job, I remember freaking out about bills, about pink tax, about never being able to pay off student loans, and I remember a jolt when she took my arm, looked me in the eyes, and firmly stated that we had lived through worse, and that we would live through this.

When my father died, I remembered nothing. A shiver runs down my spine at the images that play of possiblities.

When they finally legalized gay marriage everywhere in America, I remember running to the court house in a white sundress, heels, and a black tie. I remember the jolt of relief, as if we were finally done, after getting married.

When we adopted a girl that was 11 years old and couldn't stop shaking, I remember having a lot of chocolate–chip cookies in the kitchen, which only the little girl would eat. We would hold her tightly at night when she cried about the things they did to her in foster care, and we would comfort her with rich perfumes and promises of college. I felt a small happiness jump in my ribs when she first told me she trusted me.

When little miss trust had her first baseball game, I remember missing it. I was working that day. I felt a tenge of sadness when she sent me a picture of her hitting a home run saying that it was fine since I texted her 'good luck'.

When our baby asked out a girl to prom, I remember me and Sakura high–fiving and crying happy tears and dancing. I remember that small river of pride that danced in my viens. She was one of us.

I remember when my little kiddo came out and said that they were really non–binary. It was amazing. I remember that feeling of being trusted, as if I was finally let in on a big secret, finally aloud to go outside, after a day of rain.

When they went off to college, I remember Sakura crying. Not because we would miss them, but because she really wanted some of their famous, little pies. I laughed and felt a bit of accomplishment as I hugged her.

When they had kids of their own, I remember beating the punk's ass, who decided it was perfectly fine to leave them after forcing them to bear his children. I filed a case with anger gripping at my heart.

When Sakura retired at the early age of 41, I remember having a vacation day with her. It was fun. I had that same feeling of accomplishment that I knew all too well with my great family.

When I kissed Sakura for the first time that day on July 16th, the day we actually got married, I remember feeling a tiny spark, watching flashbacks of our lives entertwine.

**Author's Note:**

> that was corny and horrible tbh. hope u liked it~!


End file.
